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UBB^R- 



OOT '■ 



E 286 
U.L69 

1854 

Copy 1 



P 



AN A I ) I > i; i: s> 



DELIVf;RKl> BEFORE 



THE LITERARY SOCIETIES 



OF THE 



I 



MIUHNIA MILFJ'ARY INSTITUTE, ' 

t 

AT LEXINGTON, 




< I X THE 4 T n (IF J I I. Y , 1 H .") 4 , 



u 



B V 1!. J. 15 A K HOCK, 

OF OR.INGK roUNTV. VIKiMMa. 



J^iblu/ifJ by rrfjucil of thr. Sot:u:tu:ii . 






i:iciIMnM»: 

MACKAKLANK A; KKUias^lX. 

1 X '. I . 



1 



.V 



>J 






AN ADDRESS 



DELIVERED BEFORE 



THE LITEKAllY SOCIETIES 



OF THE 



VIRGINIA MILITARY INSTITUTE, 



AT LEXINGTON 



On the 4 t II r July. 18 ;> 4 . 



BY BK J'' BARBOUR, 



or OHANGE COIXTY. VIRGINIA. 



I'lilAixlud li;i reri'icif of the iSorflic- 



lUCIl.Md.NU: 

MACF.MIL.VNK .1 KFROUSSON. 

1S54. 



E .. , 

1 In 



A ]) 1) R E S S 



Gentlemf.n ; — You will pardon nic in commcncenieiit lor re- 
peating the substance of mj- letter accepting the position I occupy 
to-day — I have obeyed your call rather for the opportunity it 
affords me of expressing the deep interest I feel in your insti- 
tution than from any hope of making an adequate return for the 
compliment you have paid me. And without aflcctation I may 
say that I labor under a double embarrassment in fulfdling this 
engagement. Many years — I need not say how many — have 
elapsed since I left College, and hereafter you will be better able 
than now to appreciate the hesitation of a farmer more accustom- 
ed to '• entwine his thoughts with Nature in the fields, than Art 
in galleries," to appear before those whose active acquaintance 
with literature enables them to detect the first anachronism in 
history, or the slightest trip in the classics, especiall)- on the 
part of one who never claimed to be very sure-footed. 

But if I feared to stand the ordeal of a literary institution, I 
was still more doubtful as to the propriety of coming to speak, in 
my desultorj' way, to those whose occupation teaches them to 
•talk plainly and to the point." I could but fear that my 
thoughts, set in loose array before you, would be as distasteful 
as was the courtier's bald, disjointed chat to Harry Percy — for 
I have observed that the .strict discipline of the camp teaches and 
calls for terse and nervous speech, for compact arguments as 
well as for solid columns — and will only pardon attempted or- 
nament as it allows the burnished armor, the waving llag, the 
-^tirring music and the cadcnccd step, as the incitements to a 
more rapid movement and a more vigorous attack. 

Coming then as a militiaman before regulars, I am sure you 
do not expect any discourse on tactics from one wlio " never set 
a squadron in the field, nor the divisions of a battle knows 



4 ADDRESS. 

more, ' — nay not half act well as (he fair daughter.'* of Rockbridge. 
Gibbon saya somewhere that he wa.t better able to write the de- 
cline and fall of the Roman fmpiro from having served for a 
xhort time in the Hampshire militia. Hut viliatcver of clearness 
this may have added to Wm '■ liiminoua page," I do not feel that 
my martial cxperienco, embraced in a single appearance at a 
general muster, has at all increased my ability to addrest those 
who have " given the first watches of the night to the red planet 
Mars." But while I ask you to grant me credit for the most 
complete and absolute ignorance in military matters — that I have 
not skill to "trench a field or raise a rampart" — that I am en- 
tirely unacquainted with the jjrand conceptions of Vauban and 
the sublime reveries of Marshal Saxe, you will yet allow me to 
express my admiration of the wisdom which has induced our 
State to abandon the wretchedly absurd militia .system to con- 
centrate its cfTorts u|)on such an institution as this — under able 
management to form a nucleu.s for an efTectivc citizen soldiery, 
by sending forth from time to time u band of intelligent ofTicera, 
well prepared in the hour of need to guide and direct the ener- 
gies of the State, and " bring the freeman's arm to aid the free- 
man's cau.ic." 

Ouided and animated by this feeling — and recollecting that 
your institution was formed les.« for the chances of war than for 
the more .solid triumph.-) of j)cace, of science and of morality, I 
could not hesitate in the selection of a to]>ic upon which to ad- 
dress you. Denied a fellowship in other things, you yourselves 
have indicated to mo, what another portion of the title of your 
institution would have guarantied, that you acknowledge broth- 
erhood in the name of a noble mother — that there is a loftier 
music under which we can march ' ' . .Vnd I I n: 

til you, therefore, secure in the €••;. •^ that if ■ • d 

at your line.-*, I could sincerely answer — a friend — and advnncing, 
give that unvaryin£JCOun(l■r^il»n of our affections — that perpetual 
watchword of our hr.nl \'i,-jjinia! 

It is of her that I would speak to you today — a day I know 
which invites a broader range though it cannot ofTcr, I hope, a 
more acceptable topic. Consecrated by the birth of a nation and 
by the death of patriots, its return and celebration would justify 



ADDRESS. 6 

US in wandering in thought and fancy over that grander heritage 
those patriots have bequeathed to us — or with the license granted 
usually on such an occasion, we might be pardoned for extending 
our gaze and seeking to 

" Pierce the war cloud's rolliag dun, 
Where furious Frank and fiery Huu, 
Shout in their sulphurous canopy." 

But I think wc can spend our time just now more profitably in 
running the shorter lines of our smaller, but goodly heritage — 
and find our account in treasuring the advice of Dundas to Pitt 
when the latter, walking rather unsteadily after dinner, was 
speaking prosily about the "balance of power.'' " Hang Europe's 
balance : mind you own !" 

It -••eenis to me, my friends, that we busy ourselves too much 
with these things already — that there is a stronger wish to set 
the world to rights, than to keep our own houses in order. I 
would not wish of course to discourage an enlightened acquain- 
tance with current history, or seek to check investigation in all 
proper and legitimate directions. But I think that all sober- 
minded people will agree with me in saying, that there is too 
great a tendency in the present age to cxpansiveness at the cx- 
pen.se of profundity — that tinsel and veneering are too readily 
accepted in the place of solid mahogany and pure gold — that 
the broad views wc hear so much of only encourage shallow 
thinking — that quid-nuncs are increasing more rapidly than in- 
telligent citizens — and that the electric telegraph, that mad gos- 
sip as FalslalT would have called it, is too true a type of an age 
that I greatly fear would rather have the latest piece of slander 
flashed along the wires, than to be assured of the recovery of 
the lost decade of Livy — and boasts a knowledge of the seat of 
war in Europe that it does not possess of the map of its own 
country. 

Nor do I intend to weary j'ou with any thing more than an 
incidental allu^ion to that other exciting subject of the day — that 
morbid philanthropy and calculating humanity, which takes a 
fugitive slave for its hero, drapes a city in mourning when the 
constitution is obeyed, appeals to a higher law for revenge, and 



6 M>I>RE6e. 

dies witit cowardly terror to a lower law for protection, and 
, .iiiif^, wiMi hlood on it.s hands and ncriplure on its lips, to lift the 
as-a<>in .- knife and light the inccndiary'n torch, in Ihf name of 
a mock and lowly Saviour. I turn from these more exciting 
subjects, because I feel, as I hope you do, that we can dwell for 
a time more pleasantly and jirofitably on matters nearer home. 
As you have stood upon some one of these lofty peaks by which 
you are surrounded, and have strained the eye to embrace the 
grand panorama before you — the billowy hills, and long waving 
!inc of our blue Pyrenees — you have felt at length how much 
more pleasant it was to withdraw the aching pize and fix it on 
some quiet valley nestling beneath you, glistening it maybe with 
the golden harvest or the springing corn, and smiling with all 
the other evidences of peace and happiness, as though consciouh 
that nature had laid its hand in blessing uiwn it. Even so let 
us withdraw our gaze from the great world for a time, to in- 
spect our own loved Slate — to take counsel together as to our 
duties, and how we may best perform the part assigned us in 
the sen-ice of a mother whose afTcclions and bounties so well 
entitle her to the aid and comfort of all her cliildren. 

Wc all feel that Virginia does not occuj)y her proper i>osition 
in the confederacy of States. We all regret that in the great 
march of material improvement she has lagged behind until she 
is hardly w ithin bugle-call of her sisters. I have felt it my duty 
to speak thus ])lainly whenever a fair opportunity occurred, and 
in return have been denounced a.<~a croaker — but I trust when 
you have heard mc through, you will defend and absolve me 
from such a title. It would be far easier, as it certainly would 
be far more agreeable to speak in one unbroken strain of hope 
and joy of the present and future of Virginia — to gloss over the 
errors of our system — the defects in our j)ractice — and utter 
pleasant words to soothe our consciousness of wasted jiowers 
and neglected opportunities. Hut we have done this too long 
and found an increase, not a mitigation of the evil. It is upon 
the " languishing agriculture of Virginia" that the abolitionist 
makes his bitterest .sarcasms — nor can wc deny in the face of 
the census returns, that we have the melancholj' farce enacted 
in our midst of framing constitutions for men that cannot read 



ADDRESS. 7 

it — that we have eighty thousand ready recruits for the Know 
Nothing party, if its name be the measure of its information — 
that our young men, the pride and strength of ever}' land, arc 
leaving us by thousands, torn like jewels from the diadem of 
Virginia, to deck the brows of more fortunate States — and that in 
every section of our broad commonwealth we have howling wil- 
dernesses that, under happier auspices, should be smiling with 
prosperity and laughing with abundance. I am told that a 
brighter day is dawning upon us. I am happy to believe it, and 
have myself proudly proclaimed it — but it is our duty to see that 
it is something longer than a polar winter's day — that we shall 
make a sustained and not a mere galvanic eflbrt — that we shall 
act not from the sheer necessity of the moment, but from a 
higher, sterner, and more continuous sense of duty. 

It becomes us, then, to investigate as clearly as possible the 
defects which have led to the past decline — to promote the pres- 
ent tendency to advancement — and thus endeavor to learn and 
to remember "what makes a nation happy, and what keeps it so." 
I beg leave to say in advance that I am only seeking to set your 
own minds to work upon this subject. I have not come to you 
to-day with any elaborately planned .system — any patent panacea 
for our ills. I have no faith in mere ephemeral associations 
which propose to regenerate a country by administeringa draught, 
or by withholding it. I do not believe in building a house upon 
one stone, defending a fort with one gun, or launching a seventy- 
four with only one ma.^t. I trust the day is far distant when 
the morals and religion of \'irginia will be only statutory- I 
trust we shall be long exempted from those false systems under 
which the '■ individual withers, and the world is more and more." 
To you, gentlemen, as Virginians, warmly interested in every 
thing that pertains to the honor, profit and glory of your native 
State, I would say beware of these new fangled plans whose 
inevitable tendencies are to break up the ancient landmarks — 
and in proposing to substitute a system for conscience, and a 
•shibboleth for morality, would make all men as much alike as 
three-cents pieces, and just about as valuable. 

In the present day there is an alarming tendency, as it vecm.s 
to .Tie, towards centralization — a disposition to legislate upon 



>^ ADUUt:p.S. 

every subject — to urganizv every man'H household for him — 
alinoet, as Sheridan ha.s it, to make us " start by rule, and blush 
by example." I believe thi^ spirit of iDtcrfercncc to be at total 
variance with true, rational freedom, whether civil or religious. 
I say civil or religious, fur it i:< an easy trun>i(ion for this spirit 
of interference to pass from one to th« other. Having settled a 
man's condition in this world, it would incvit;il>ly undertake to 
prescribe hi-i destiny in tlie next. Amid tlii-< \vild commotion uf 
reform, we have still time and light enough to look to the com- 
pass by which we liavc steered so long, and to recall the fact 
that the old Anglo-Saxon notion of liberty was that of the 
greatest individual freedom compatible with the iatcrcsls of so- 
ciety — to appeal to neither nciglibornor State for aid that it could 
do without — and while it punished crime pronii)lly aud sternly, 
did not seek to amend the Decalogue, nor wa^t>,■ its energies in 
the effort to settle that vast multitude of rjucstions which a 
higher wisdom had decreed should be decided only between man 
ajid his God. Individualism, I repeat, is the characteristic of 
all true freedom, whether civil or religious. I <io not, of course, 
use this word in that selfish sense which vi'ould make the in- 
terests of individuals superior to the common interests of soci- 
ety — but in that higher sense which shall make each member 
of a community feel that under Divine Providence he has a work 
to perform — some greater, some less. The parable which telle 
\is of the distribution of the talents, shows us in the very ine- 
quality of the distribution, that it is to individual energy we 
must look for the greatest achievemenL«. There is no warrant 
in that parable for commimisni, nr joint stock philanthropy. 
Constituted as we arc for diflcrcnl purposes and with different 
powers, man can only reach his highest devclupmcnt under that 
system which not only allows, but encourages the full display 
of each jieculiar mind, and the warmest cfTorls of every sympa- 
thizing heart. 

To all this it may be answered, as I have been answered, that 
in Virginia at least there is but little evidence of this tendency to 
centralization, this disposition to substitute governmental action 
for individual exertion. I wish I could think su. t wish I could 
shut my eyes and close my mind against the melancholy convic- 



ADDRESS V* 

tion that as a people we look too much to the State for aid — that 
we wait too su])inely for others to do for us wliat we could and 
should do better and far more promptly for ourselves. Candor, 
I think, will declare that we are too lazy and too dependant. 
One illustration must suffice. Look at our system of internal 
improvements. Our legislatures have expended money enough, 
if properly administered, to have covered the whole State with 
a network of improvements, radiating in ever}' direction, and 
cnablinz Virginia to extend her arms and embrace all her chil- 
dren. Instead of this, what do we behold.- AVhat have we to 
show for our money but splendid failures and magnificent abor- 
tions ? We have been Titans in commencing, but alas ! we have 
been but pigmies in concluding. An ancient aj)otlicgm warns us 
that we should commit the beginning of every great action to 
Argus with his hundred eyes, and its completion to Briareus with 
his hundred hands — but I fear with us the rule is just exactly 
reversed. Briareus commences, then folds his many arms and 
sits down with Argus to look on, and speculate as to the proba- 
ble completion of the work. Virginia for the past ten or fifteen 
years has but acted the part of the over-fond and foolish mother, 
and instead of exercising her judgment, has in too many in- 
stances only impaired the patrimony of her children by grati- 
fying every idle whim and importunity and conflicting caprice. 
She has attempted to give substance to the dream of the vision- 
ary — she has been too ready to give the selfish credit for pat- 
riotism — with characteristic profuseness and recklessness has 
been prompt to spend while there was a dollar in the purse, and 
to borrow when there was not — until at last, aroused from her 
credulity, (for I trust she is aroused,) she finds that not one 
single great work is finished, except in the highly excited ima- 
ginations, or on the highly colored engravings of thcirprojectors — 
that she is burdened with unavailing taxc- — her people still 
separated and divided — jealousies between her towns and wrang- 
ling among her counties — her resources undeveloped — some of 
the fairest portions of her territory alienated in afllctionor made 
tributary to other States, and that after all her clforts and ex- 
penditures she must still look to the future fer her greatness, 
and to the past for her renown. I am told that individual agency. 



10 AMiRPJip. 

the action of citizens, could never have accomplished what we 
nee around u*. Perhaps it could not — at least it would have 
shown its wisdom in not attempting so much. To the argument 
that private capital was not equal to such burdens, there is the 
obvious answer that the citizens of the State must pay the debt 
at last — and that the work will be fmishcd sooner and the debt 
more promptly paid where personal interest and active individual 
agencv are the spurs to exertion. And wo hare the facts that 
in Georgia, a State originally not better supplied with capital 
than ourseU-es, the works of improvement, constructed by pri- 
vate companies arc finished and paying handsomelj* — while the 
only road there which is doing badly, is that built upon State 
account. I honestly believe that Virginia would this day be in a 
belter condition if without one mile of railroad she were with- 
out debt. We might then hope that instead of dissipating her 
energies and pouring forth her treasures to run to waste, or wa- 
ter but the desert, she might profit by the ^ad experience of 
other Stales and of the F'cderal Government that politicians are 
the worst road makers in the world — that she would determine 
to work through her citizens and not by her Legislature. We 
might then hope that one channel would be (>[)ened^-our grand 
Aorta along which might flow the life blood now pent up in her 
mighty heart. 

It may seem inap|)rupriate on such an occasion, to dwell upon 
these things — and yet it cannot be wrong lo warn you as Vir- 
ginians of the greatest danger threatening your native Slate. 1 
should be untrue to myself and lo you if I failed to give utttr- 
ance to the fear that oppresses me — that under the corrupting 
system of Internal Improvernent.s, as prosecuted in Virginia, pat- 
rioli.sm has been weakened — that low and selfish mana-uvring i» 
taking the place of a noble and lofty State pride. And unless 
Virginia determines speedily to remove the cancer, by refusing 
farther appropriations, or by the more cfTcctual remedy of selling 
her interests in the principal works, and thus breaking up the 
sources of combination against the Treasury, il requires no pro- 
phet to foretell the melancholy result. We can but recollect the 
woe of wealthier common wealths — we can but look forward with 
dread of that hour which has come to others, and may come lo 



ADDRESS. 1 1 

US — when hope deferred shall at length make the heart sick — 
when an overburdened people shall forget "the clear renown 
it used to wear'' — when multiplied disasters shall at length sug- 
gest dishonor — when with works unfinished, with faith broken, 
and credit gone, Repudiation shall come at last with her black 
brush to finish the picture, come to add shame to grief, and in- 
famy to ruin ! 

You feel inclined, with noble impulse, to say this can never 
be. It is for you in part, as it is the duty of every Virginian, 
who links his own personal honor with the credit of his State to 
say it shall not be. Every thing should be done to encourage 
the particular friends of the larger works in their present noble 
efforts to complete their improvements on their own credit and 
from their own resources. And when this is accomplished, we 
may dismiss all fears. It will be easy to quiet and crush those 
smaller cormorants whose existence depended upon the success 
of the larger — and we shall reap the higher profit in the valuable 
lesson that individual energy is a stronger force than legislative 
action, and the industry of citizens a better capital than State 
subscription. 

In speaking to you of these matters I beg you to believe that 
I have a higher motive than that of mere crimination. I have 
dwelt on it for a time as the most striking illustration of the po- 
sition I have assumed and the lesson I would inculcate. It is 
far, very far from my purpose to utter wholesale denunciations 
against the friends of Internal Improvements, a class that in- 
cludes our most enlightened and purest men. It is against the 
corrupt and corrupting system that I would warn you, and all 
Virginians. There arc many things that the State should not in- 
terfere with, and this is one. The railroad mania of England 
warns us that even when guarded by lynx-eyed personal interest 
what frauds may be perpetrated in the prosecution of public 
works, and the late developments in Northern railway matters, 
prove that even our more astute brethren are not exempted from 
the danger of over issues. 

Our system has as yet escaped the imputation, or at least the 
proof of criminality, and has disarmed resentment by a full con- 
fession of folly. Many, perhaps most of the evils of this system. 



1- AL>I>UE8tl. 

have sprung from an utter ignorance, and an entire consequent 
neglect of the true inlcrc>ls of the State. And I have come 
to a~li ^'ou, arauDg other things, to do what I fear too many of 
our Legislators have failed to do^to Hprcad the map of Virginia 
before you — to trace out not only her dotted tioundaries and her 
pencilled >huro», but to .study her condition, her wants, and her 
resourcc.H — to bend your head to catch the pleadings of her 
feeble voice, and then, with noble re^olution and high resolve, 
here in the purer atmo.sphcre, and amid our grander scenery, to 
con:iCcrate yourselves to her service. And here let me entreat 
you in all kindncs:< and confidence to commence your life of duty 
by casting olT or repelling that I'alse pride too common in our 
State, which is prone rather to exact than to render honor. I 
hope and believe that the day of morbid thinking and miserable 
working is past — that the time is at hand when the youths of Vir- 
ginia will deem it no degradation to earn an honorable indepen- 
dence in the cause of their State by the strength of their own 
good right arms — will believe that idleness is not meritorious, and 
labor not humiliating — that an embrowned cheek is no deroga- 
tion from the gentleman, and that a hardened hand may be hut 
the .surer pledge of a warmer heart. If you value the nobler 
parts of the Virginia character, its true nobility of soul, its scorn 
of meanness, its high-toned honor, and all those other social 
and moral qualities which have so long adorned it— qtalities 
that its enemies have pretended to deride, but before which they 
have ever stood abashed — if you would preserve and tran.*mit 
these, you must early learn that their true basis is independence. 
You must learn to seek other roads to wealth and fame than in 
the walks of overcrowded professions, or alon^ the precarious 
and slippery paths of [x>litics. Do not think I have come to 
read you a homily against ambition. I would myself suspect the 
sincerity of any man who would proclaim himself insensible to 
the good opinion of his fellow men. There is much truth in the 
old scholastic aphorism, that he who lives wholly detached from 
his kind, must be cither an angel or a devil. But what I would 
impress ujMin you is, first, that however glittering the prize, it is 
but a fal>e ambition which does not bold self-respect far above 
any oflice in popular or governmental gift, and secondly, that if 



ADDRESS. 13 

office, in the only form in which you should accept it, is with- 
held, if it be not offered without solicitation, and won without 
dishonor, it is still in your power with talent and perseverance, 
to gain high and enduring distinctions such as midnight cau- 
cusses cannot give, nor scheming politicians take away. We 
have a signal proof of what a man may accomplish for himself, 
in our distinguished fellow citizen, Matthew F. Maury. We 
proudly claim him as a Virginian by birth, but freely relinquish 
him to the world of science for its adoption. We see in him a 
man whom kings have sought to decorate and nations have 
learned to honor, as one who desires knowledge less for his own 
fame than for the good of mankind. His AVind and Current 
Chart, second only in value to the compass, has taught the mar- 
iner in every sea the habits of the shifting winds, and customs 
of the mountain billows, and has given him a name that is ut- 
tered with gratitude on every passing breeze, and borne in thun- 
der on every gale that sweeps the stormy deep. 

It is granted to but few to make their mark in the political 
wcrlJ — it is not often, in the words of our distinguished Senator, 
that a man can marry his name to a great principle — the triumph 
of the orator in but fleeting, and the strength of the logician is 
frequently wasted on idle or chimerical schemes and subtleties. 
The lasting affections of a people or of a community naturally 
centre upon him who does some practical service — whose genius 
and philanthropy shine in good deeds — who works silently and 
disinterestedly, and finds more true joy in the performance than 
in the reward of noble actions — a purer pleasure in the conscious- 
ness that he has soothed one aching heart, that he has brought 
quiet and happiness to some sorrowing hearth, than he who com- 
mands the applause of listening Senates and pawns his conscience 
for emp'y and prosiiluted honors. 

If you enter political lil'e, let it he with llif full persuasion 
that there is a higher fame in advancing the prosperity of your 
country than in adding to your own ])crsonal rc[iutalion. Publish 
no catalogue of your own merit", and be not the advertiser of 
your own deserts. Wa^tc not you lime like Rogero in the Ro- 
vers, " silting by the deep pool of despondency angling for im- 
possibilities." Virginia has need lor all her sons — she has cm- 



14 ADDRESti. 

ploymcnt for all. It is not ncccMary for any of them to renouucr 
the land of tlioir birth. The discontented spirit finds no relief in 
flight. Horace asked two thousand yearn ago. 

** Wliol wanderer fruni Itit itBlivc Unil 

KVr left liiiii«eir beliintl ? 

The •rii>wsr<Jlliau|!lil, Ihc miteiaMill. 

Aoil di«conlcnl Bllond bim tlill, 

Nor quit liitn while he live*.*' 

To all those who complain that within their own State they have 
no opportunity to rise, I am ever disposed to repeat the caustic 
reply once given to a young Virginian. He was asking an old 
gentleman just returned from the West, if In- saw any opening 
for a young man of talent. " Sir," wan the appropriate answer, 
"there is an opening for a young man of talent tverywktre." 
Our engineers, our profc-^sors, our teachers ^llould all be Virgi- 
nians. There is honor as well as profit in many occupations that 
we neglect and almost despise. Virginians must go to work. 
They must remember that the days of entailed estates and of 
inherited renown are past, and with them should pass away 
that false feeling which is too proud to beg, too lazy to work, but 
is most liap|)y toconiproiiiisc niatlers by sulirilinn an oiiicc ! Let 
u.s change nil this, and feel that every occupation is dignified by 
the indejiendence it yields, and ennobled by the fact that it is as- 
sisting in bringing back the smile of health and joy to the faded 
check of Virginia. 

Acknowledging the painful fact that Virginia as a State, though 
full of the " excellency of dignity and the excellency of power," 
has merited and met the fate of Reuben, " unstable as water 
thou .shall not excel" — we arc obliged to admit also that her chil- 
dren taken individually evince a lack of that fixedness of pur- 
|ioso, that unconquerable will which alone can bear us in triumph 
through the trials and troubles and difficulties of this world. 
We are too easily satisfied, and too easily depressed. We are 
too much like Byron's Jack Skyscrapc, 

"n tnercurial iiinn 

Who (liillered nvrr nit lhinK< like ■ fan. 

.More brave (ban firm, and mote inclined (o dare 

And ilir nl onrp. ihnii v»rcFl!e v»illi despair. " 



ADDRE.S.-. If) 

In our studies we lack concentration. We seek a smattering ui 
all things and gain perfection in none. Too many of us lead aim- 
less lives. Every man, whether standing on the threshold, or 
engaged in the busy scenes of life, should have a clear purpose — 
A CLEAR PURPOSE. Hc should fix his eye upon some point he i.s 
determined to reach, (taking care by the way not to fix it too 
high, for it is more agreeable and graceful to rise than to fall,) 
and then resolved to labor and to wait, success will come, or in 
its place a noble fortitude that will sustain him in every trial, and 
nerve him to mightier efforts. 

It has been allowed to but two men in our country, John Quin- 
cy Adams and Hugh Swinton Legart — perhaps I may properly 
add a third, Edward Everett — I know of but these three to whom 
with truth can be applied the words of the eulogist of one of 
them, that by genius and industry they had climbed from peak 
to peak until arrived at the summit, the whole panorania of know- 
ledge and science lay accurately mapped at their feet. And 
even of these it may be safely assumed that it had been better 
for themselves and for their country if they had contented 
themselves with a more restricted range of thought and investiga- 
tion. But though two or three have reached the summit of Monf 
Blanc, how many have failed, sinking with exhaustion or return- 
ing with a lew lichens, the dreary evidence of a drearier failure. 
I would not wish of course to see my countrymen contracting 
their minds to particular objects to the total exclusion of all other 
i-lements of a liberal education. I would not have them like 
the mathematician who considered Paradise Lost a poor poem 
because it proved nothing, nor like the linguist who considers it 
the highest exercise of human intellect aufl human ingenuity to 
chase some poor fugitive word through the obscurities and sinu- 
osities of a dozen languages. But I do object to the modern notion 
of making a voyage round the world of science in a few months 
or even years. I am utterly opposeil to this rapid review ot 
the realms of thought, about as satisfactory and profitable as th-* 
study of geology from a railroad car. 

Every observant person must ba\e noted tlir firects of thi^ 
style of aimless study upon the Southern mind— It- tendency !> 
diffuseness— making it prefer glitter to strength and gaudine<- 1 > 



16 APPRB6S. 

grandeur of thought. While we are thun gelling gems and flowem 
we neglect to lay a «olid fuundalioii for Southern literature. To 
the same source must v/c aitcribe the fact that we have so few 
fini.-<hcd statesmen. With at least equal intellects, and far higher 
powers of elocution, our Southern orators arc often overwhelmed 
by laborious Northern adversaries by their masses of figures and 
tabular i-lalements. It would be luaicrous. if it were not lamen- 
table, to .see how often our Southern men on reaching a point 
that requires accuracy of statement, familiarity with detail and 
all the other evidences of order and method — how, failing in 
these, they are obliged to lake refuge in idle declamation, or 
wor^e still, in bitter and degrading personalities. This style of 
study [iroduces indecision of character. Theyoungman who ha-s 
studied without an object may, upon a review of his mental for- 
ces, have the vanity to conclude that he is as good for one thing 
as another — but alas ! the more righteous verdict of the world, 
and one that he very readily confirms in after years himself is, 
that he is good for nothing. It is this scattering of the powern 
of the mind — this lack of finish in any particular branch of 
knowledge that should indicate an avocation, which gives us so 
many nerveless saunterers upon the stage — so many idlers wait- 
ing, like our friend Wilkins Micawber. for something to turn up- 
whistling for Ihe bree/e when lliey should be tugging ut the oar — 
losing each day a portion of their self respect — too oficn sinking 
as slaves to vicious habits — becoming the pro[)cr agents for the 
dirty work of jiarly, or resorting to the lower chills of necessity 
and degradation. It is this system in part, (with the additional 
fact that wc have left among us some of the worse features of 
aristocracy,) that gives such currency to Ihe bandit maxim, thai 
•• the world owes me a living" — uttered generally by lliosc whose 
characters warrant us in saying, that if society does really owe 
the del)!, it most i-erlainly is not •■ for value received." The 
nobler maxim, as I have nlre.idy inculcated, holds that each citi- 
zen owes a debt to .-ociety — and the truer [hjlicy is iliat which 
looks for its compensation in the rich harvest springing from 
law and order — from that diversified employment which brings 
forth every beauty and all power — adorns and strengthens society 
with variety and contrast — as nature teeming with multiform 



AI)1)RKS~. IT 

abuiuiiince and loveliness covers the valley witii flowers, clothes 
the plain with golden harvests, and crowns the hill with noble 
forests. 

It is this directness of aim and purpose, this diversified em- 
ployment which has given to England so many eminent men in 
the different walks of Literature, of Science, of Art, and of every 
branch of industry. By these multiplied and blended powers 
she has laid every clime under tribute, and made her little island 
the centre of Civilization — the mighty heart by whose pulsa- 
tions are measured the health and strength of every commercial 
country', as she has been the great fountain from which in later 
times every nation has drawn the first draughts of cLvil liberty 
and religious freedom. My prayer is that my own country, 
profiting by her example and warned by her errors, may exceed 
even her strength, and crown even her glory — and that as a por- 
tion of the country of promise, responsible in more than ordinary- 
measure for its destiny, and rich in all the elements of material 
and moral grandeur, Virginia shall determine to ])erform her 
proper part in the great drama. To effect this, I return as to a 
chorus in saying that, each of her sons must determine to fulfil 
his whole duty. 

If his thoughts arc turned to literature, let him with De Quin- 
cey invoke the genius of common sense to keep him from sac- 
rificing his peace, his bodily and intellectual health to a life of 
showy emptiness, of pretence, of noise and of words, and to 
teach him how far more enviable is the reputation of having pro- 
duced even one work, though but in a lower department of art, 
(such as the Vicar of Wakefield.) which has given pleasure to 
myriads, than to have lived in the wonderment of a gazing crowd 
like a rope dancer, or a posture master, with the fame of incred- 
ible attainments that tend to no man's pleasure, and which per- 
ish from the memories of all men as soon as their possessor is in 
the grave. 

So too by giving liis earnest attention shall a man learn to love, 
and seek to digni(\' his profession, whatever it may be. And in 
this connection I am tempted to quote again what I have often 
quoted before, the noble words of Bacon on this subject — " I 
hold every man a debtor to his profession — from the which a- 



men do of course expect to receive countenance and profit, »o 
ought tlicy of duty by way of amends to endeavour tu he a help 
and an ornament thereunto." It is this ^pirit which gives the 
Doblcbt impuUe to all actions — which tcaclii-:< us that we have 
duticft to perform a^ well a.s rights to maintain. A clear pur])osc 
once formed to perfect ourselves in our calling will leave us but 
little lime t<» discuss the fault.-! or envy tho I'ortunes of others. 
Prospering ourselve.s, we (-hall be willing to rce others prosper. 
The author from whom I have already quoted, well remarLs that 
a good scheme of study ^or of business) will xmn prove itself to 
be huch by this one test — that it will exclude as powerfully as it 
will appropriate: it will be a system no less of repulsion than of 
attraction. Once thoroughly occupied by the deep and genial 
|)leasures of an elevating [)ursuit, j'ou will be indifferent to all 
others that had previously teased you with a transient excite- 
ment. His illustration of this fact perhaps will strike you. He 
says it is just as we sometimes see a young man superficially 
irritated as it were with wandering fits of liking for three or four 
ladies at once, which he is absurd enough to call " being in 
love" — but once profoundly in love, he never makes such a mis- 
take again, all his feelings after Ma/, being absorbed into a sublime 
unity. I hojje you will try both of Dc <iuincey's tests — that of 
faithful attention to elevating pursuits, and thi.s "concentration 
of feelings into a sublime unity." He is so untrue to his own 
noble nature as to contend in another portion of his works that 
marriage is inconsistent with the greatest triumphs of life — 
but this must have been uttered in a moment of irritation when 
his wife had just taken his opium or laudanum bottle from him. 
At least I hope I may be pardoned for ditTering from such high 
authority, and for saying — not in the spirit of idle compliment 
to my countrywomen — but in the truth and sincerity of my 
heart, that an early marriage as it is confessedly the surest pledge 
of happiness, so loo it is frequently the strongest assurance of 
distinction. The eye of a loved companion has been the light 
whii h lias saved many a noble mind from stranding — the gcntie 
hand of woman has often had power to lift the stalwart man 
along the sleeps of fame — and whatever of renown the proud 
and lonely man mav win. he will be furreil (.> acknowlrdi.'*- that 



ADDIIESS. lit 

the most brilliant fortunes anJ the highest honors still lack their 
brightest charm when unshared by the noble and devoted wife. 
And when, under these bright influences, we have encouraged 
a nobler love of independence and a higher source of action — 
in the resultant of these radiant and mighty forces we shall find 
what we have needed so long — a Virginia spirit and a spirit in 
Virginia. But that spirit must be aroused speedily if we would 
not have the peculiar type of Virginia character blotted out 
forever. And [ confess for myself that I would consider her 
prosperity too dearly bought if effected by foreign hands. Thougl 
the State were covered with improvements — though each hall 
hour were proclaimed by the warning note of the rushing train — 
though populous cities and fertile fields should give us assurance 
of a mighty prosperity, I should still mourn the loss of that type 
of -Man and Woman which belong peculiarly to Southern States, 
as the artist mourned for the blush of the sixth maiden. It is to 
preserve these that I would have the sons of Virginia become 
the genii of her prosperity, and be her strength, her power, her 
.safety and her pride. I know it is very much the fashion now- 
a-days to talk in swelling phrase of loving your country first and 
your State afterwards, but I would reverse this process, for I 
have ever felt that I should be a better American as I was a truer 
Virginian. Not that I would encourage a cold and selfish isola- 
tion of feeling — not that I would wish a severance of this Union 
while there is hope of its remaining a Union of free and equal 
States. I feel that upon its preservation depend the brightest 
hopes that ever dawned upon humanity. 1 feel that to ask what 
the North could do without the South is as heartless as to ask 
how much of vitality would be left in the quivering limb when 
severed from the parent trunk — as idle as to ask how the frag- 
ments might sparkle, when the diamond had been shattered. 
So long as we can believe that the insults and injuries heaped 
upon us arc the offences of a few active fanatics perpetrated in 
opposition to the feelings of a majority of the Northern people, 
let us endeavour to feel with the ancient Douglas, 

" Wlint if I PiiiTi rcnuscloB wron^-, 
In then my ncinali r.if;c fortroii^. 
My "icnfic of public wral "O low. 



20 ADURIi88. 

That for itic.i': •. ' r. 

That knit iti\ ..11.11... piiiil " 

Hilt let u> clearly indicate that our hesitation in the reluclau' e ol 
patriotism and not of cowardice, or of indifference, f^et us ferl 
that it i.'* the duty of patriots sometimes to make "such a timely 
union in favor of the law with the law on their .■>idc, that they 
may not find themselves under the nece.'-fity of conspiring in- 
stead of consulting." In this spirit while there is yet opportu- 
nity we should stand up and stand together t'"r the preservation 
in all it> |jurity and strength, of municipal government, the right 
of each community to manage its own affair.-, as the only system 
which, under proper influences, can preserve a nation from for- 
eign enemies, or that greater evil, "absorption by itself.' It is 
for this I would have Virginians arouse themselves to the ex- 
igencies of our situation, and bid them show our enemies, if such 
we must call them, that we are not the I'ecble enervated race 
which they hope will pass away before their superior energj-, as 
the Indian passes away before the white man. Or with kindlier 
feelings, without defiance or abuse, let us "show their fierce 
•zeal a worthier cause" — show them the power and prosperity of 
calm, serene independence, hid them imitate our example, and 
substituting a generous rivalry for sectional hatred, let our only 
differences be as "one star differeth from another in glory" — 
and thus working in concert, mingling in sublime harmony the, 
full notes of many noble instruments, we shall form th"' mighty 
diapason whose tones shall charm a world. 

In this lofty chorus of States there should be no grander strain 
than that of Virginia. In all the strength of love and hope i re- 
joice to think that though her harp be now unstrung, no cord 
is lost — and touched by proper hands she may yet remember all 
her antique melody, and thrill with all h^-r ancient music. 
Mourning over her errors, omissions and ncgligencies, we are 
consoled by the rellection that her character is still adorned by 
much of the "homely beauty of the good "Id cause" — there i.i 
still a dignity, a refinement, an elevation about it that would re- 
deem a thousand faults. In poverty or wealth her society ha« 
still been bound together by that " triple cord not easily broken " 



ADDRESS. 21 

the Honor of Man, the Purity of Woman, and the Sanctity of Re- 
lii^ion. 

] thinli \vc sliall acknowJciigc these to be the main elements 
;ui(J chief securities of individual happiness, of social stability, 
und of national greatness. We have ample evidence that neither 
physical nor intellectual, nor even in its lower sense, moral im- 
(•rovcment, will permanently elevate and dignii'y a State or a 
nation. We must look to a higher source and to a more .sus- 
taining, to •■ govern them and lift them up forever." You can- 
not learn too early that the cultivation of the higher powers of 
the mind, or the better feelings of the heart, for mere earthly pur- 
poses, does not yield the truest nor most enduring happiness. 
If we have no higher aim, there is danger, nay there is almost 
certainty, that when disappointment or affliction comes — when 
the world loses its charm and the future hangs before us like 
some vast funeral pall, that heart and mind will be paralyzed 
or embittered, and we shall only have the sad alternative of 
choosing between the fates of the mocking misanthropist, or of 
the deep lethargy of that despair which has not learned to look 
beyond time to eternity. Its value will pardon the repetition of 
the truism that the miseries and misfortunes of nations as of in- 
dividuals are oftcncr the results of their own follies and crimes, 
than of the cruelties and oppressions of others. But we dislike 
to acknowledge our own errors, and are too prone to the hasty 
sad generalization, and mournful self-fulfdiing prophecy, that 
depreciation and final degradation are the inevitable laws of 
social and national existence as death is of man's mortal career. 
I am no perfectionist, but yet it seems to me that in our specu- 
lations in soci.il philosophy there is a safe middle ground between 
the vain glory "f the optimist and the depression of the pessi- 
mist — a middle ground, where recollecting the frailties of hu- 
manity we cannot dream of its pcrlVction, but remembering its 
powers and capacities, we ran hope and lielievc in it-; indefinite 
improvement. 

The-^c thoughts rise more prominently before ine just now be- 
cause there arc still lingering on my car the ' elegiac and dirge- 
like' tones of an exiled man who I fear has nii>-taken the failure 
of hi" <>\v'i r-iw-r- for the rviin and de^xradalion of his kind. It was 



59 



ADDRE<^. 



my fortune a few day!> i>ince to hear the address of the distin- 
guished lri>h patriot, John Mitchel, before the literary »ocietie8 
of the University of Virginia. That speech is already published. 
You will read it, of course, and judge for yourselves — and judge 
too if I do him injustice in u hat I am about to say. At least we 
shall all agree, after reading it, that whatever of positive evil or 
of morbid sensitiveness English law and social polity may have 
produced in Ireland, it has not degradid all her noble intellect, 
nor quenched the tire of her burning eloquence. The limits and 
purposes of this address would not allow tne, if I desired it, to 
dijcuss at any length the doctrines of Mr. Mitchcl's speech. 
It falls in with my purpose however, to warn you against what 1 
esteem to be its gloomy tendencies, and to enter my protest in 
advance against its depressing influences. I venture then to say, 
that if I have not mistaken the drift of that speech, I would not 
hold its philosophy, I would not have my brother Virginians 
follow in its faith — no, not for all the gold of that Australia in 
whose wilds he nursed these bitter fancies. 

The purpose of his speech, as I understood it, was to prove that 
the Civilization of the nineteenth century is hollow and lieart- 
les.H — that it is utterly impossible to improve the whole race of 
man, the '-genus homo" — that the world is governed by what I 
must call the see-saw princij>le — that improvement and elevation 
in one nation is certain to be compensated by the contemporane- 
ous decay and degradation of some other race, and to be requited 
moreover by ages of evil against years of good^that even the 
best and bravest men act without reference to posterity or the 
world — that war and not peace calls forth the grandest qualities 
of manhood and of womanhood — and that after all, the mourn- 
ful fact is established that human progress, like the progress of 
the material world, is in a cycloid, the nations in their course 
but resembling the passing year, with a spring time of hope, a 
summer of teeming fertility, the autumn of al)undance and then 
the inevitable "winter of discontent." Surely my friends we 
will not receive this philosophy. Rather would we say if this 
gloomy picture be correct, if these dismal dogmas be true, " let 
chaos come again," for cnerg)', noble thoughts, heroic deeds, life 
itself — the>e are but cheats, vain and false delusions. Mr. 



ADimEss. 28 

Mitchel attempU to pairj', but cannot conquer, the overwhelm- 
ing objection to this theory of non-progress, or progress in a cir- 
cle, or progress here, compen>ateci by retrogression there, that if 
generally received it would take away all motive for patriotic 
effort or generous self sacrifice in a good cause. Would it not? 
The hope of lasting benefit to his country in the deeds he per- 
forms, is the chief incentive of the patriot. Convince him that 
bis labors will be useless, — that he is striving vainly to uphold 
a sinking State — that he is writing his name upon a crumbling 
stone, and he will strive no more — for j'ou have taken from him 
that hope which is the mainspring of all good, and high, and 
honorable deeds. Surely you will say this was meant onlj- for 
brilliant parado.x, or was spoken in momentary gloom. V\'e will 
not allow even Mr. Mitchel to rob us of the belief that he himself 
in his noble efforts for the regeneration of his country, looked 
beyond the triumph of the moment to promote the happiness of 
after generations, and the unlimited prosperity of countless ages. 
Nor can we allow him to say, without denial, that the patriots of 
our revolution, our good and brave men acted simply from the 
necessity of their being, and not for posterity. In their heroic 
sacrifices then, in their dee]) deliberations, in their prophet-like 
warnings, and in the strength and stability of the government 
they formed, we have the grandest proofs that they ''were the 
testators to a posterity which tlicy embraced as their own" — that 
theirs was '•' the ambition of an insatiable bcnevolenrc which, not 
contented with reigning in the dispensation of hap|)iness during 
the contracted term of human life, had strained with all the 
reachings and graspings of vivacious minds to extend the domin- 
ion of their bounty beyond the limits of nature, and to perpetu- 
ate themselves through generations of generation-^, as the guar- 
dians, the protectors, the noiirishcrs of mankind." 

We of the South will readily unite with Mr. Mitchel in de- 
nouncing the mischievous and futile schemes "f E.vcter Hall — 
the telescopic humanity of the Jcllabys. the cant and hypocrisies 
of the Chadbands. I3ut avoiding one exlrcmo, we need not fall 
into the other. Our utter scorn of all pretence should not pre- 
vent us from drawing the jiroper distinction between judicious 
and officious philanthroity. We may smile contemptuously at 



24 AltDRESi:. 

the .sentimental MCin[).stre<i.s who is " working htlle handkerchiefs 
for African picaninnic?- on the bankii of the Joliba" — but let us 
not forget the deeds and errands of true benevolence. Will not 
Mr. Mitchell ])ut aside his biting ironj" for a inomcnt, while we 
recall a picture of j)eacc— of a great nation re>|<i)nding with touch- 
ing alacrity to the calls of suffering humanity — -tripping its armed 
vessels of the habiliments of war to freight them down with food 
for the famishing children of a distant island, and calling it:> 
desolate |)cople from the beds of despair and the abodes of 
wretchedness, to forget their woes, revive their energies, and 
recover their happiness, in a new home, and under a brighter 
heaven. Let the nineteenth century be credited for one move- 
ment of benevolence in the right direction, and towards the 
right men. 

We may agree with Mr. Mitchcl that physical progress is not 
true civilization. But we should no more reject its " many-voi- 
ced, hundred-handed messengers,'' because of occabional misap- 
plication, than we should reject the steam-engine because there 
are "fatal collisions" and ''frightful accidents." 

This poor nineteenth century, somewhat boastful, to be sure, 
may not be so bad after all as he deems it. Viewed aright, the 
very deceptions we deride may be the truest evidences of moral 
improvement, the homage of the hypocritical few, to the virtue 
of the many. Its ■balmy sentimental talk" may sometimes be 
the mere euphuism of cruelty and ojjpression. but let us hope 
that with the name, it may after a time acquire the substance of 
benevolence. Indeed, if we will cast aside our bitterness, I 
think we may find pleasant evidences of a larger intelligence, 
of a broader and warmer humanity, disfigured and retarded here 
and there by frauds, and crimes and injustice, but never wholly 
arrested. Each age has its leading idea and principle. The 
present age is marked by an advancement towards an almost 
unrestricted intercourse between the nations of the earth. .N'ew 
forces and new elements have been developed, whose coming 
no one foresaw, and whose results no one can predict. The whole 
human family seems to be in motion. Even China acknowledges 
a bond of union with the "outside barbarians," and pours her 
emigrants on our western shores in such numbers, that we arc 



forced to borrow the strange hyeroglypics of her tea chests in 
the publication of our laws. Japan, the hermit of nations, opens 
its ports and solves the mystery of centuries. Steam strains ten 
thousand wheels — new motive powers are sought, subdued, and 
made the viewless ministers of our will — Nature opens two of 
her strong boxes in California and Australia — continents are 
traversed, oceans are united — great industrial exhibitions are 
held— 

" Tlie )iarliamcnli> of man, the fcdcrnlious of llic world." 

Mr. Mitchel will pardon this last item, because wc live in glass 
houses ourselves and cannot throw stones, and though the nations 
went to war after all, it was none the sooner for having attended 
the "exhibition." Be this as it may, we are certainly justified 
in the belief that this grand movement over the face of the earth 
betokens more than commerce, and vindicates the hope that 
men hereafter will be united by a brighter •• nexus" than " cash 
payments.'' 

We must reject Mr. Mitchel's cyclical theory, because we see 
an inchoate improvement throughout the whole family of man — 
because, on his own principles, if war be the great regenerator, 
Europe and Asia too bid fair just now to be fully restored to their 
pristine vigor by the " most extensive mutual cutting of man- 
kind's throats" — because, against his rule, a great nation has 
arisen here on this continent without any sensible degradation 
in any other country — but chiefly because it is based upon a false 
analogy drawn from the physical world. It would lead us to 
believe that there is no more of morality than of oxygen, no more 
of patriotism than of carbon on our globe. We rather incline to 
the belief that moral qualities, civil and religious principles, are 
capable of indefinite extension without diminution. Upon the 
whole we must class this theory, which confines civilization to 
one quarter of the earth, with that congenial speculation in as- 
tronomj' which claims our own as the only inhabited world — and 
as the Christian faith peoples all the starry spheres with living 
souls kneeling in gratitude to the Author of their being, so the 
Christian hope looks forward here to the time when every con- 



26 ADDUi^:!. 

tincDt, and all the isiandit of the sea, shall be adorned with grander 
Coliseums and more solemn Paniheons, reared by the handA of 
a nobler people, and echoing the hymns of a purer faith. These 
may be the visions of a too sanguine hope — but in the energy 
they impart, and the activity they induce, are the powers and 
qualities which purify and elevate. If a mournful catalogue of 
failures is drawn from history, I answer that we should stand by 
the grave of dead empires for a nobler purjKJse than to copy 
epitaphs for the living — and choose rather to utter inspiring 
words at the head of the advancing columns, than bid them trail 
their banners and falter in their march, under the wailing notes, 
the wild coronach, of grief and degradation. 

Equally shall we reject the bloody dogma that war chiefly calls 
forth the Hner, tenderer, more generous qualities of manhood and 
womanhood. In the highest style of art and beauty, with the 
warmth of a lover painting his mistress, Mr. Mitchcl has drawn 
for us the picture of a Carthagcnian maiden at the moment when 
her city was beleagurcd by the Romans, " shearing ofT her long 
raven hair and knotting into bowstrings ; aye, and exulting in 
her beautiful, benighted Pagan soul, to think that silken tress 
will send the winged death hissing to some Roman heart." But 
we must ask Mr. Mitchcl to turn from these tresses, glistening 
like Berenice's hair, and, (omitting the general items of horror,) 
to debit the account with Asdrubal's cruelties, and note with 
especial care the wholesale infanticide committed by Asdrubal's 
wife without the temptation of a " burial society." Even his 
■' war goddess," with her premature, but patriotic baldness, must 
divide her glory with the women of those African tribes oppressed 
by Carthage — wlio in these same Punic wars tore the " rich 
jewels from their /Ethiop ears" to defray the expenses of their 
armies — and would doubtless have offered their " raven hair" 
but for the sad reflection that the shortness of the staple would 
have made it unavailing. Nor must Mr. Mitchcl fail to remem- 
ber that the commerce he so much abhors gave " Carthage of 
the ships" her greatest glory and strength, while war swept her 
from the earth, and laid an anathema on her reconstruction. 

Noble deeds have been done in war by man, and woman has 
trembled and acted with heroic paasion — but oflener has peace 



AKUKKSS. Zl 

witiH'j.-cd tlif tenderness of Scipio without its blood}' foil, and 
triumphed by costlier sacrifices than a maiden's hair. I must 
confess that as j-et wars are sometimes necessary — but I confess 
with sadness what Mr. Mitchel proclaims with exultation — and in 
parting with him, I beg leave in all kindness to commend to his 
reflection, these eloquent and truthful words of a late writer. 
'' War is the inexorable foe of all progress, intellectual, social 
and .spiritual. The man who can slay his brother, or who encour- 
/ages another to do it, renounces his godlike character, and returns 
to the community of the hj'aena and the tiger. Civilization 
stands still when armies take the field: it retrogrades when they 
leave it. Humanity shrieks at the trumpet note of battle, and 
religion stoops abashed in presence of the warrior with red hands, 
and the sovereign with a bloody heart." 

Returning from this digression, as you may consider it. I be- 
lieve you will pardon it for its incidental connection with the 
main purpose of this addrc.-s. I could not properly invoke indi- 
vidual energy unless I could speak hopefully of my kind. I 
could not ask you to work under the belief that all the triumphs 
and trophies, preserved, or freshly gathered, in this nineteenth 
centur}', may be lost. That there i-- degeneracy in morals in 
some portions of mankind, we cannot deny — that with ■•gran- 
deur's growth the mass of misery grows." is painfully evident — 
that disastrous eclipses sometimes fall upon human nature, ex- 
perience and history show us loo mournliilly. But instead of 
despondcnc}', this should only arouse us to higher exertions. We 
do not abandon our navies or our fleets of commerce because the 
full-sailed vessel sometimes goes down in itsprid';. and the giant 
steamship meets a mysterious fate. \Vi' learn to look for hidden 
rocks, and to sail with greater cautidti. Peace Conventions and 
Amelioration Societies may end in .-ad or ludicrous failures. But 
there is hope, there is strength, in that ireneroM< and general in- 
dividual exertion which 

— ■■ like iliL' r<j>iiiij;. 

."'Iilill Icnvr nr> corner ..I lln' liiliil unloiicli' il,' 

and strives on with the full assurance that a great Heart a.s well 
as an infinite Mind joverns. direct", and blesses the universe. 



•2H U)1»KKSS. 

"We arc Um apt." .savs Hurke, •to coii>iiiiT ihiiigs in the state 
in which we (iiid them, without !>utlicieiith' adverting to the 
causes by which they have been produced, and possibly may be 
uplield." And here in \'ir^inia I lliink we may claim as lie doc» 
for his country, "that nothing is more certain than that our man- 
ners, our civilization, and all the good things that are connected 
with manners and civilization, have depended for years upoa 
two jirinciplcs, and were indeed the result of both combined, 
the spirit of a gentleman, and the spirit of religion." 

I shall not venture presumptuously to recommend any partic- 
ular courses of study or of reading. But there is one Book that 
I would place in the centre of your thoughts, as I would place 
the jewel iti the crown and the keystone in the arch. Kdward 
Bulwer, in a late noble oration, advised the youth of Scotland to 
the prosecution of classic studies, because " he whose early steps 
have been led into the land of demi-gods and heroes, will find 
that its vrry air will enrich the lifeblood of his thoughts, and he 
will quit the soil with a front which the Greek has directed to- 
wards the stars, and a step which imperial Rome has disciplined 
to the march that carried her eagles in triumph around the 
world." It is but just to add that in a meagre ))aragraph, he 
"deems it unnecessary to admonish religious .Scotland that the 
most daring speculations a» to Nature mny be accompanied with 
the humblest faith in those sublime doctrines which open Heaven 
alike to the wisest philo.-opher. and the humblest peasant." But 
seeing that Bulwer lives in an age where these daring specula- 
tions are made in defiance of. and for the attempted refutation 
of, these sublime doctrines and that humble faith, we must deplore 
that such a mind as his^-one that in his later works has shown 
itself susceptible to pure and sacred influences — did not advo- 
cate the study of those nobler classics ami those higher ora- 
cles which transcend (Jreek originals and Uoman coj)ies, in 
beauty and sublimity, as far as inspiration is above intellect, and 
in mighty thoughts, as the heavens are high above the earth. 
It would have been a noble atonement for the fascinating evils of 
Falkland and Devereux. if Bulwer had made his pilgrimage to 
Edinburgh to inculcate with all his force and Ix auty that there 
was more of grandeur in the lofty warnings of I-aiali than in the 



ADDRESH. 20 

:>ublinie arrogance of .Escliylus — that the nothingness of human 
wisdom was better taught by the psalmist than by the Q^dipus 
of Sophocles — that the simple story of Ruth shines vith a love- 
lier light than all the meretricious splendours of Aspasia's Court — 
and that the words under which Felix trembled, and Agrippa 
wavered, appeal more eloquently to the heart of man than all the 
persuasion of Cicero, or the thunder of Demosthenes. In com- 
paring these literatures I believe with a distinguished English 
writer, that even if Greek literature were lost, it would be re- 
membered only as a generation of llowers is remembered — 
whereas the Bible, " introtkicing itself to the secret places of 
the heart, and nourishing there the germs of those awful spiritu- 
alities which connect us with the unseen world" can never 
perish. The Greek classics belong to the library of the scholar — 
but the Bible is the literature of humanit}-, 

— '• ;iii<I t'pr this single cuuso 
That uc have, till ol* us, one liuinan licart." 

You [HMceive that I am recommending it to jou now mainly for 
its literary preeminence, but as one searching for gold may find 
a diamond, so I believe in its constant investigation j-ou will 
discover its sacred origin, its richer treasures, and its higher re- 
wards. Convinced of these you ma}' venture upon the bolder 
(lights of investigation, because you will never consent to dissi- 
pate yoiu- faith in daring, impious speculations. The Bible was 
never intended as a tc.\t book of the sciences — these are of men, 
and that is of God. You will sometimes hear that the Bible is 
inconsistent with geology — but wait a few months — new theories 
will come — and you may answer, geology is inconsistent with 
itself. The Bible is too constant in its teachings for those fickle 
intellects which change their systems oftener than their gar- 
ments — found afaith upon every rock e.vcept the Hock "f Ages-7- 
frame a creed from mouldering bones, supplying the connecting 
links from their own fancies as they fashion bits of cork to supply 
the missing vertebrae, and denying alike the unity of man and 
the trinity of CJod, yield a belief to the rattling skeleton, which 
Ihev withhold from that form of liirlit transfiiriireil on Mount 
Tabor. 



30 Ai>i>u£i;c:. 

The cuiiiiiiige>t devices which a cold intellcctualism ]>ru|x)!>c!< 
as .substitutes for religion all err in this — tlu-_v draw no distinction 
between matter and spirit — they lake no heed of that grand 
analogy which tells us that as there is a centre of our earth to- 
wards which all matter gravitates, so there is above a point 
towards which all thoughts, all aOections, ' whatever stirs this 
mortal frame" must tend. These .systems are the oflspring of the 
vanity or pride of man — sometimes even uf good men, who arc 
unsatisfied thinker.s, who mislead others and gain only irritation 
for themselves in their search for truth, or who are always 
finding their buildings falling about them, because they have 
either based them on treacherous sands, or have failed to use the 
great corner s'.oiie. 

There is another class against which youth with its untamed 
fancie.'', and its unalilicted heart, should be especially warned. 
I have not yet forgotten how many false lights glare aiound the 
path of the young man — how, for instance, he is startled by the 
brilliant blasphemies of Shelley, and bewildered by his mocke- 
ries, ringing with the wild echo of a devil's laughter. I know 
how young men, in the brilliancy of his thoughts, have forgotten, 
if they have not excused, the errors of his life — have forgotten 
the neglect, perhaps the cruelty, which led a lovely wife to the 
commission of suicide, his outrages upon domestic ])urity, his de- 
fiance of the taws of God and man. As I would warn you against 
his life, so I would save you from his doctrines and his fate. 
For -search his works if you will — gather together his choicest 
blasphemies — repeat the mightiest of his Satanic defiances — and 
when the hurricane of affliction sweeps over you, they will avail 
you as little as they did him. their impious author, when in the 
bay of Spczia, amid a fleet of vessels, his bark alone wa.<i borne 
down by the gale — when the God he had reviled seemed 
justified in his wrath — when- we may fancy that as the waters 
were closing over that miserable man, in that moment of mortal 
agony, he heard the words of that awful anathema, " I will 
laugh at your calamity, and mock when your fear comclh." 

In youth we arc apt to think there is something contracting in 
religion — an undue curtailment of the plea-urcs of the world, 
an undue ~til1in^' of thi- pnunplings of ambition. Religion it must 



ADDRESS. 31 

be confessed is sometimes made almost hideous by its teachers — 
we are called to shudder beneath a God of horror instead of lift- 
ing our eyes to a God of mercy — This should not be. A true 
and healthful spirit teaches us that this world, this bright and 
beautiful world, this portion of God's great plan, was intended 
for the pleasure and profit of man. And whilst a j)ure faith tells 
us of duty and submission, it restricts us from no pleasure and 
no prize which a legitimate ambition would covet. It does not 
diminish the range of the loftiest intellect — it does not check 
the soarings of the brightest genius, for immortality is the no- 
blest thought of which the mind is capable. It did not stay 
Newton in his starry flight — it placed no hindrance in that radi- 
ant pati) along which he advanced, till, reaching the line which 
mortal may not pass, he seemed to need but one step more to 
place him in the presence of his God. It was the fervor of a 
christian poet that built with lofty verse the noblest epic of the 
world — and imparted that genial warmth and sympathy to the 
myriad-minded Shakcspere which gave him " a knowledge of the 
human heart second only to that of Him who made it." No 
thought but immortality can " fill to fulness" the mind of man. 
Our own Webster as he looked back upon a career rich in all 
the trophies of time, acknowledged that even his gigantic intel- 
lect wanted its crowning ornament in wanting a knowledge of 
the great Intercessor — in preparing his own epitaph he made no 
record of his honors, or of the " g^eat legacies of thought" be- 
<]ueathcd to his country — but traced in simple grandeur his deep 
conviction of the truths of Christianity. 

With all these evidences, and clouds of noble witnesses, I 
am sure you will not waste your time in attempting to untie the 
" knots that tangle human creeds" — satisfied with the ethics, 
you need not puzzle yourselves with the metaphysics of reli- 
gion — and may I ask you not to try Christianity by the faults, the 
errors, the failings and bigotries of earthly mind-. A profession 
of religious faith is sometimes but the haughly ])harasaical as- 
sumption of superior excellence, and only intolerant of the sins 
of others. Hut the humlile christian in his own weakness is 
glad to remember that in the summary of virtues, •' the greatest 
of those i.-- charity." He is ready to acknowledge that "there 






82 yU)iiKKs^. 

never \ra!< uiie thought, from the foundation of the earth, xuppo* 
!<ing it at all entangled with human paciion^, which did not offer 
.lomc bicnii.sh, .some ><orrowful xhadc of |K)llution, when it came 
up for review before a heavenly tribunal." No one can properly 
claim entire exemption from the IrialK and temptation^ of thi» 
world, l)ut a:* the ^ame writer say.-, " it i- the key in which the 
thoughts and feelings mo\e which detcrmiMt-- the .-tage of moral 
advancement" — it i» the recognition of the hi^h and fiolcmn truth, 
that from the very fact of its wcakneH.«, there can be no happi- 
ne.-.- for riiaii but in the education and regeneration of the heart. 
Thi- i-i the one great truth to be learned by indi\idual:< and 
through them, by State>. " It ii idle," ^ay* an eloquent divine, 
"to ho|)e by our own short sighted contrivances to ensure to a 
,{>coplc a happine--.x which their own character ha.^ not earned. 
The everlasting laws of fJod's moral goveriinienl we cannot re- 
peal, and 'parchment constitutions however wise, will jirovc no 
shelter from the retributions which fall on a degraded communi- 
ty." True civilization i> something more than ju.stice between 
man and man, or between nation and nation. The dove of peace 
mu.st be substituted for the eagle of conquest, if we would coin- 
bine expan^on with stability — and justice be forgotten in love, 
if we would approach that divine law which bii^ds together the 
least and the greatest things, as elements equally essential of this 
great universe. 

In conclusion, I know you will believe I have said thus much 
to you, not in the spirit of an arrogant or "■Ificious monitor, but 
as a brother, wlio having advanced farthir along the path of 
life than yourselves, cheerfully paused at your rail to exchange 
friendly greetings, and to warn you of the dangers which lurk 
around you. 1 have attempted to speak the language of cau- 
tion, but not to utter one word of despair. My object has been 
to invite you to higher resolutions and noMrr a-pirations— to in- 
voke your aid for a generous mother-land, that, leaning on her 
children, her course may be onward and upward, her flowing 
robes unstained by red-republicanism or black infidelity. 

For myself, I shall be amply compensateil if you shall hereaf- 
ter recollect any thing I I avc said to vou as words of comfort 
or of consolation, as at all tending to increase your love of the 
true, the just, the noble and the j)ure — I shall have enough of 
fame if you )>hall determine thus far to interweave my humble 
cypher with the evidences of your uscfulnes-. or the record of 
vour renown. 



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